


Okay

by sorteparaplyer



Series: Kinkmeme Fills [9]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Apologies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced Prostitution, Gen, Guilt, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Photographs, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24712177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorteparaplyer/pseuds/sorteparaplyer
Summary: Diego failed Klaus once when they were younger. Now that he's realized his mistake, he knows he has to fix it. He has to make sure Klaus is okay.
Relationships: Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Kinkmeme Fills [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1450708
Comments: 20
Kudos: 304





	Okay

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for an [umbrellakink](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/) prompt made [here](https://umbrellakink.dreamwidth.org/284.html?thread=1087004#cmt1087004), although I took some liberties with the details. I've had this kicking around in my docs for ages while I tried to finish a WIP, but that's taking too long, so I'm posting this now before s2 comes out! And ofc, since it bears mentioning, [ACAB](https://www.8toabolition.com/)

Diego can’t quite bring himself to open the manila folder in his hands. It’s thick, with a substantial weight to it. Patch had warned him there’d been nearly thirty victims. 

Thirty victims who had been _photographed_. If there were more whose presence hadn’t been documented, they didn’t know how many yet.

She had initially thought the photos were trophies, a way for Morgan to commemorate his conquests. But then Patch found the website and realized they were merely product photos. Advertisements of what he had on offer.

Mostly prostitutes, runaways, junkies. People who wouldn’t be missed too dearly if they disappeared. People who wouldn’t be believed if they tried going to police.

Diego’s going to tear the folder in half if he doesn’t loosen his grip on it.

Patch never followed the Umbrella Academy. She wouldn’t recognize a photo of Klaus if she saw one.

She thinks his interest in the case is purely about Lieutenant Morgan. She’d thought the pain on his face as Morgan was led out in handcuffs was shock at what he’d been accused of.

“I know it’s hard, Diego,” she had said comfortingly, putting a hand on his arm. “Everybody liked him. Nobody suspected anything.”

She hadn’t seen the pieces falling into place in Diego’s mind, the realization that had dawned black as pitch.

“We don’t think he killed any of them. It looks like he let them go once their sales started to decline.” It was supposed to be a comfort to Diego—the fact that his old training officer hadn’t killed any of his victims. “Right now we’re working on identifying them so we can try to track them down.”

He knows he’s going to have to tell her that his brother is in that folder.

He’s going to have to tell her how he knows.

Diego finally opens the folder, looks down at a photo of a teenage girl with tears running down her face. He winces and flips to the next one, then the next one. Patch had said that the photos were ordered chronologically, leading back to his first known victim. Diego keeps flipping, barely taking in what he’s seeing beyond the absence of black hair and green eyes before he goes to the next. He’s nearly at the back of the folder when he sees it.

He had been certain Klaus would be in the folder, and yet he hadn’t realized how much he still hoped he wouldn’t be. Now that he’s found what he was looking for, he has to force himself to look at it.

It’s Klaus, kneeling on a concrete floor, his wrists bound in front of him with zip ties. He’s completely naked except for a collar around his neck. His eyes are wide, full of fear, as he stares up at the camera. 

Diego’s heart aches, remembering how cavalier Klaus was, how he took everything in stride. He’d seen Klaus scared, of course he had, but he’d never seen fear like that on his brother’s face. Klaus must have been absolutely terrified. 

Klaus would’ve been twenty-two then. Young, and yet he looks so much younger than twenty-two in the photo. Diego was young then too, of course, but he knows it isn’t an excuse. He should’ve seen how fragile Klaus always was beneath the bravado. He should’ve known his baby brother needed to be protected. 

Diego forces himself to turn to the next photograph. This time he sees Klaus sprawled on a bed, badly beaten. Purple bruises and red cuts litter his white skin, a stark contrast to the neutral print of the duvet. His hands are over his eyes, as if he’s shielding them from the flash of the camera—or desperately trying to hide from the man behind it. The hunch of his shoulders suddenly calls to mind the way Klaus had once cradled his busted jaw. Diego can’t even imagine the kind of pain Klaus must’ve been in while Morgan had him. 

He should have believed him. He should’ve at least listened to him instead of throwing him out of the police station. But Diego had every reason to trust Morgan and so few reasons to trust Klaus.

Klaus had already been hurt by that point, but Diego could’ve prevented the folder from being as thick as it is.

He could’ve taken Klaus in and gotten him help for what he’d been through.

Diego reluctantly turns to the next photograph. It shows Klaus crouched in a cage, like a crate for a dog. He’s gazing up at the photographer with a look so vulnerable and innocent that it churns Diego’s stomach. He doesn’t look scared so much as apprehensive. Worried. This must have been before Morgan gave him reason to fear him so badly. Before Morgan used a picture of him beaten and bloody to advertise him for sex. God only knows what else he did to him.

And Diego had done nothing.

“ _Yoohoo!_ Knock knock!”

Diego’s stomach drops at the sound of the familiar singsong voice. He looks up and, sure enough, there’s his goddamned brother Klaus peeking into the office. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he growls. 

Klaus is scanning the faces behind the desks, a slightly wild look in his kohl-rimmed eyes. 

Diego can only assume he’s looking for him. He sighs and pushes himself up from his chair. 

“Oh, Diego!” Klaus’ face lights up. “I knew I’d find you! This place is a labyrinth. You don’t really notice when you’re off your face and someone else is leading you around. Not that I’m exactly _on_ my face at the moment, but—”

Diego grabs ahold of his arm and muscles him out into the hallway, ignoring the way it makes Klaus flinch away. “What the hell are you doing here?” he hisses. “How’d you get past the lobby? Did Rosa let you in?”

“Who’s—oh, that charming broad in the striking maroon blouse? Well, about that, Diego…” He affects a watery, regretful tone. “I’m afraid I may have left her somewhat _traumatized_.” Then a sly grin cracks his face. “She never even saw me coming.”

Diego steps back, quickly checks him over for any sign of whatever stunt he pulled. He looks fine, and he can only hope Rosa is too. “I changed my mind,” he says. “I don’t wanna know how you got back here. Just tell me what you want.”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask!” Klaus puffs his chest out importantly. “I’d like to report a crime!”

“You don’t need _me_ for that.”

Klaus seems to soften just a little, as if a tiny drop of honesty is about to leak from his facade. “Well,” he says, “I kinda do.”

Normally Diego would take a civilian into an interview room to hear what they have to say, give them somewhere quiet and a little more private to go through their story. But it’s Klaus, so he squares his shoulders and says, “let’s hear it then.”

“You don’t have somewhere we could sit down?”

“Nope.”

“Is there a report in your back pocket that you’re gonna start filling out as soon as I start talking?”

“Doubt it.”

Klaus wilts a little more, searching Diego’s eyes as if he’s not sure he should continue.

Diego almost feels bad, but he reminds himself that Klaus probably broke twenty laws just on his way to the station. Diego is doing him kindness enough by listening to him at all. Especially after the way he embarrassed him in front of his colleagues.

“Well, um… somebody kidnapped me.” Klaus’ hands twist together with nervous energy. “I don’t know his name, none of us did, but I could describe what he looks like for, you know, a sketch artist or whatever. He did have the most dashing bone structure—”

“ _Klaus_.” He frowns, and Diego suddenly notices how run-down he looks. It’s not that Diego doesn’t have sympathy for him—he knows Klaus struggles—but he’s going to be furious if this is all leading up to a plea for money or a place to stay.

“He, uh, he nabbed me off the street and, um, well, I’m sure you know what kind of career options are available to down and out addicts.” Klaus lets out a shrill giggle. “He kept me doing the same kind of work, with room and board but without, you know, a _choice_ in the matter. Autonomy, as they say.” Klaus forces a brazen smile back onto his face. “I think that’s called trafficking, right? I saw _a lot_ of traffic.”

Diego frowns, and now he’s the one searching Klaus’ face. It’s always been hard to pick the truth from the fluff, puzzle out the reality of what actually happened from Klaus’ fanciful retellings. “How’d you get away?” he asks.

“Oh, well, this might sound crazy but he let me go. Just threw me out. Can you believe that? He only had room for so many, and I guess my novelty had started to wear off.”

“Why didn’t he kill you?”

“Jesus, Diego.” Klaus’ eyes narrow. “Would you rather he had?”

“ _No_. It just doesn’t make sense. A kidnapper wouldn’t want you to be able to go to the police.” 

Klaus shrugs. “How should I know? I’m no detective.”

“Are you just trying to get somebody arrested? Do you owe someone money?”

“No! What the hell, Diego? Listen, if you don’t believe me maybe there’s another officer I can talk to.”

Down the hall, Sergeant Morgan’s office door opens. He steps out and then freezes as he catches sight of them in the hallway. He shoots Diego a questioning look. 

Diego gives him a grimace that he hopes looks apologetic, inwardly cursing his luck. He really would’ve preferred not having to answer for Klaus’ presence at the station—including whatever he did to Rosa—but there’s no way he can avoid that now.

Klaus turns to follow Diego’s line of vision and lets out a gasp. “Fuck,” he whispers, whipping back around. “Diego, that’s _him_.”

Diego stares at him for a beat and then scowls. “ _Seriously_ , Klaus?”

“I’m not kidding! That’s him!”

“You’re unbelievable. You would’ve accused the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man if he’d walked in first.”

Klaus glares at him, his eyes suddenly welling with tears. “Fuck you, Diego,” he spits. He turns back to where Morgan is still eyeing them from the doorway. “You’re a sick bastard!” he screeches at him. “You’re not gonna get away with what you did to us! It’s over for you as soon as I find someone who will listen to me!”

“Klaus!” Diego’s cheeks burn as he reaches out for Klaus’ shoulders, yanking him back. “Will you fucking shut up? That’s my _boss_.”

“Yeah, well, your boss raped the shit out of me and sold me on the Internet.”

“That’s it. You need to get the fuck out of here.” He hauls Klaus down the hallway, through the lobby, and out onto the sidewalk, where he shoves him hard enough to send him toppling onto his ass.

“Don’t you ever come into this station again,” Diego tells him. “ _Especially_ not pointing fingers at people who actually have their shit together, who are doing a whole hell of a lot to help people.” Fury flares within him at the thought of having to apologize to the sergeant, of the whole station knowing what a mess his family is. Of being Number Two again after he’s tried so hard to put the Academy behind him. 

The anger is easier to feel than the shame, so he leans into it as he towers over his brother. “You’re just a hopeless junkie, Klaus,” he spits. “And you know what else? You’re a slut, you always have been, and I don’t think someone could rape you if they tried because you’re _always_ asking for it. So go ruin your own worthless life if you want, but don’t you dare try and drag anyone else down with you.”

“Diego,” Klaus pleads, staring up at him. He pushes himself to his feet, wipes at the tears running down his cheeks. Diego thinks unsympathetically that it must be hard to hear the truth once in a while. “Diego, I’m not lying. He hurt me, he kept me in a cage—”

Diego’s fist smashes into Klaus’ face before he can even think about what he’s doing, and then Klaus is falling to the ground again. 

Klaus rights himself slowly, mouth bleeding and cheek mottled red. This time he doesn’t try to argue, doesn’t even look up at Diego. His fingers hover over the split in his lip like he can’t quite understand how it happened.

If it weren’t for the anger burning in his chest, Diego might almost regret hitting him. Instead he tells him, “fuck off, Klaus. Don’t come back.” 

And then he goes back into the station.

Patch is so understanding when Diego tells her the whole story that it leaves him feeling on edge and jittery, full of tension and nervous energy. 

He goes to the gym and finds a guy twice his size to spar. It helps, eases the tension a little, but the guy goes down too quickly and his chest still aches. 

He knows he has to find Klaus. Not just because Patch will need to interview him, but because Diego doesn’t think he’ll sleep tonight if he can’t get eyes on his brother to make sure he’s okay. 

He’s kept decent enough tabs on him over the years; he knows Klaus is still out there screwing around on the streets. Klaus has even been brought into the station a fair few times, for some offense or another. Diego’s never turned his back on him. He’s just refused to see him.

It wasn’t that he still resented Klaus for his little visit to the station. All things considered, the whole thing had blown over fairly quickly. It was just that Diego didn’t want to have contact with _any_ of his family. He needed time and space to process his upbringing and be his own person.

Now, though, knowing what Klaus went through, having _seen_ the evidence—Diego can’t bear the thought of him being out there alone for one more second. He’ll spend all night looking for him if that’s what it takes.

It doesn’t take all night. It barely takes an hour because Klaus is such a creature of habit that his favorite smoking spot hasn’t changed since he was a teenager.

Diego pulls up and parks a few yards down from the park bench. It’s Klaus alright—the same wild black hair, the tired set of his shoulders. An ensemble that mixes pattern and texture in ways that Diego honestly finds intimidating. 

Klaus brings a cigarette to his lips with one hand. His other hand, resting in his lap, is set in a cast.

Diego gets out of the car and forces himself to walk closer. “Klaus,” he says, to announce his presence. “Hey.”

Klaus turns and looks up at him. Nothing in his expression changes. There’s no happiness, no anger, barely even any recognition. Smoke curls from his nostrils and disperses into the air.

Diego shoves his hands in his pockets. “How, uh, how’ve you been?”

Klaus’ eyes turn wary as he regards Diego. He lets out a humorless bark of laughter. “Peachy,” he says, turning his gaze back to the street. “Just a laugh a minute.”

Diego considers him for a moment, then sits down beside him on the bench. “It’s been a while, I guess, huh?”

“Seven years or so.” Klaus sounds like he couldn’t be any less interested in talking to him right now.

Diego plods on anyways. “You seen any of the others lately?”

“See Allison on TV sometimes. Read Vanya’s book in rehab a while ago.”

“Guess Luther’s still on the moon, so that’s pretty much everybody.”

“Yeah. You seen ‘em?”

“No,” Diego admits. “I didn’t want to after the book came out.”

Klaus nods, takes another drag.

“Look,” Diego says. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. About the last time we talked.”

Klaus shrugs a shoulder and sniffs. “Don’t be. You were right.”

“I was—no, Klaus, my boss, they just arrested him. They found the website, all the photos. That bastard’s gonna go to jail.” A pause as he looks at Klaus. “I’m sorry it didn’t happen sooner, but it’s happening now, okay?”

Klaus says nothing. He sits very still as the cigarette burns down between his fingers. 

Diego watches him, but Klaus’ face remains blank.

Long minutes pass before finally Klaus moves to tap ash onto the sidewalk. “I was talking about what you said to me,” he says quietly. “But you don’t have to be sorry about him either. I get it. Really. It was my word against his and all that.”

“I should’ve listened to you.”

Another nonchalant shrug. “I was overreacting anyways. What was I expecting, you know? Whoring myself out all over the city like I was?” He waves the cast in the air. “I deserved what happened, I know that.”

Diego turns to face him. “How the fuck can you say that?” he demands, blood running hot as his voice grows louder. “I-I saw the pictures, Klaus! I saw you in that cage. No one deserves that!”

Klaus suddenly looks nervous, shrinking back on the bench. “It’s nothing, Diego. Really. I’ve had it worse since then.”

Diego opens his mouth but no words come out. He knows Klaus hasn’t had it easy, that the path he’s chosen for himself has been rough, but he’s always pictured Klaus more or less happy with his lot in life. Otherwise, wouldn’t he have tried harder to improve his situation? Gotten clean, found a steady job? He’s beginning to wonder if he really knows anything about what his brother’s been through.

Klaus begins to relax once it’s clear that Diego has no more to say. He pulls in one more hot lungful and flicks the cigarette butt into the street. “Well, I should probably be on my merry way,” he says, levering himself up from the bench.

“Where are you living?” Diego blurts out.

“Got a boyfriend.”

Diego looks up at him. “He do that to your wrist?”

Klaus pulls the cast protectively to his chest and frowns.

Diego realizes it was the wrong thing to say. He can’t expect that Klaus would trust him enough to tell him if he was being abused. Still, “you’d be safe at my place tonight,” he offers.

A pause. “You got a couch?”

“Extra blankets and everything.”

Klaus nods. “Okay.”

“Remember,” Morgan says. “Think about what you’re going to say before you key the mic. Then wait a sec, so your message doesn’t get clipped. But don’t wait too long or you’re just blocking the frequency.”

“Yes, sir,” Diego says. _Just picture the word in your mind._ He wills himself not to worry at the corners of the city map folded in his hands.

“You might want to look over your ten-codes tonight, just in case you find yourself saddled with a little quiz tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.”

Morgan looks over at him. “Relax, boot. You handled yourself really well on that last call.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Morgan chuckles to himself and turns up the radio. He hangs a left at the stoplight and drives further into town. 

Diego’s pulse quickens as he realizes that they’re heading towards one of the seedier areas in their patrol zone.

“Quick,” Morgan says, suddenly pulling the car over. “Where are we?”

“T-t-t—” Diego swallows, tightens his hold on the map. “ _Tenth_.” He’s drawing a blank on the name of the closest cross street. He looks around for a landmark, something that will jog his memory, but nothing looks familiar in the dark.

“And Packard,” Morgan supplies. “It’s harder to orient yourself at night, but you still need to know where you are at all times. Keep studying the map and you’ll get there.” Then he points at something across the intersection. “See that?” 

Diego looks, but the only thing he sees is a huge neon green pickle spray painted onto the side of a building. 

“Try and remember it this way: Packard, pickle. At least until somebody cleans that shit up.”

Diego laughs a little in spite of himself. “I’ll remember that,” he says. He hesitates for a moment and then pulls out a pen. He draws a tiny pickle over their location on his map.

When he looks up again Morgan is leaning forward, squinting at something further down the block. “Hang on,” he says. “We might have something.”

Morgan pulls back into the street and cruises for a few yards. Diego thinks he sees what he’s talking about. There’s a figure standing on the street corner, right beneath the streetlight, dressed in a short skirt and a mesh top. Something about the way the person is holding themselves tells Diego that they didn’t come out for a nighttime stroll. They’re working. 

Morgan kills the headlights and pulls up behind a parked car, just close enough to be able to look without the cruiser being spotted. Close enough for Diego to suddenly recognize the delicate angles of the face, the slope of the nose. The circular tattoo on the inside of his wrist. A necklace that Diego remembers was one of Klaus’ favorites.

“Shit,” Diego says.

“You up to bust a prostitute?”

Diego grimaces. “Sir, that’s, uh…” He doesn’t know if it’ll make a difference to Morgan, but he figures he should say something before they come face to face. “That’s my brother. Klaus.”

“No shit?” Morgan looks back to Klaus, studying him with a curious look.

“We’re adopted,” he says. “And, um, we’re not exactly close anymore, so this might be awkward.”

“Well.” Morgan finally pulls his eyes away from Klaus. “Normally we don’t let family relations get in the way of our call to serve and protect. But we didn’t see anything here tonight, did we?”

Diego feels relief wash over him. “No, sir, we didn’t. Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” Morgan says. He looks up at Klaus one more time before he does a U-turn in the street, driving back the way they came.

Diego doesn’t see Klaus again for over a year.

“So,” Diego begins. The nervous fervor he had felt when he left the station has all drained out of him. He’s left with the feeling of how strange it is to have Klaus in the car beside him. Almost like they’re just teenagers going out for donuts again. But Klaus is like a ghost, sitting too quietly in the passenger seat, and the things Diego saw in that folder are too fresh in his memory. “You wanna stop somewhere for dinner?”

“I don’t have any cash on me.”

“My treat.”

“Okay.”

“Should we swing by your place first to pick up some clothes and things?”

“There’s no need. An outfit this good can stand to be reprised in the morning.”

“We’ll stop at a payphone on the way to dinner then.”

Klaus looks at him suspiciously. “And place a call to whom?”

Diego raises an eyebrow. “Your boyfriend? Don’t you wanna let him know you’re not coming home tonight?”

“Oh. Well. Surely he’ll put two and two together.”

Diego frowns, but he doesn’t push the issue. “Listen,” he says instead. “They’re building a case against Morgan. They’re gonna wanna talk to you about what happened.”

Klaus slouches down in his seat and blows a low, depressing raspberry. “You know, Diego, I’m not sure how much of all that I still remember. I don’t think I’d be of any help to them.”

Diego doesn’t believe him, not for a second. “You can tell them that then,” he says.

Klaus doesn’t answer; he just turns his head to look out the window.

“I _am_ sorry I let you down, Klaus. I know it doesn’t change anything, but you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. By him or by me. Or anyone else who’s hurt you.”

“That’s a truly beautiful sentiment, Diego. You’ve reduced me to tears.”

“Alright, I get it. You don’t have to forgive me yet if it’s too soon.”

Klaus glances back at him. There’s something nervous and uncertain in the look on his face. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Then, “he used to talk about you sometimes.”

Diego’s grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“At the time, I thought it was because he knew about us from the Academy.”

“What did he say?”

“He said I was just a homeless junkie whore and you were a cop, and if I ever tried to go to you that you wouldn’t believe anything I said.”

“Shit.”

“I still thought you would. Obviously.”

“Klaus—”

“I used to wonder why he took me in the first place if he knew my brother was a cop.” Klaus turns back towards the window, resolutely avoiding Diego’s eyes. In the reflection of the glass Diego can see the unhappy twist to Klaus’ mouth. “It seemed too risky, you know? I thought maybe he just liked me so much he took the chance.” 

Klaus breathes in, out. “And then I find out he actually knew you. He _knew_ you wouldn’t believe me.”

Diego winces. His stomach suddenly feels hot, his chest tight. “I’m gonna take care of you,” he says desperately. “You can move in with me. I’ll get you whatever you need. Therapy, counseling. When’s the last time you saw a dentist?”

“I don’t care about all that stuff.”

“What do you care about?”

Klaus shrugs. “Not being alone.”

“So come live with me.”

“Let’s start with dinner.”

“Deal.”

The rest of the drive is quiet. Klaus takes a small handful of something from his coat pocket and knocks it back dry. Diego doesn’t mention it. He turns the heat on in case Klaus is cold.

Once they’re seated across from each other in a booth at the diner, Diego realizes just how waxen Klaus looks. His skin is pale, his hair a mess. Smudges of old makeup blend into the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Diego keeps himself from saying anything. He knows it would only set Klaus on edge if he did. And it’s not like he blames his brother for the state he’s in, not anymore. He puts the thought out of his mind and picks up his menu.

“Do you know what’s good here?” Klaus asks, studying his own menu. “I could really go for spaghetti, but that’s always a gamble in a dive like this, isn’t it? Last time I had it, the sauce tasted like it’d been cooked in a boot.” He throws his head back and makes an exaggerated gagging sound. “Of course, I did find it on a bus at eight at night.” An airy giggle. “Anyways, maybe I’ll just get the chicken parm, or the meatloaf…”

Diego looks up at Klaus, surprised to find him suddenly talkative. “Um, I was just gonna get a cheeseburger,” he says.

“Same usual since we were kids, huh? Sheesh, Diego, you should really learn to live a little.”

“Some advice, coming from mister self-destructive tendencies.”

Klaus cracks a grin. “And yet I’ve lived such an illustrious life.”

Diego smiles, and he finds himself feeling a little better about things. By the time they put in their orders, it’s almost like things are normal between them. He tells Klaus about Patch, how they seem to be constantly on and off again but he thinks he’ll win her in the end. He talks about his apartment and the gym and his friends there. He listens as Klaus tells him about the characters he’s come across on the streets.

Their food arrives and Diego picks up his burger. He takes a big bite, and then notices Klaus staring down at his own plate. “What’s wrong?” he asks. “Did they mess up the sauce?”

“No, no, no, the sauce is fine. But will you, um, cut it for me?”

“Oh.”

“I can do it myself!” Klaus says quickly. “It’s just that it’s a little harder with the cast and I look _terribly_ undignified trying to handle a knife one-handed—”

“It’s no problem, Klaus.” Diego pulls Klaus’ plate towards him and begins to cut his chicken into bite-size cubes. “Are we going to talk about the cast?” he asks.

“Oh, well, I hardly think it warrants a big to-do.”

“It was your boyfriend, wasn’t it?”

“I have fragile bones, you know that. Never drank my milk as a child.” He pulls the plate back towards him, picks up his fork. “A missed marketing opportunity, if you ask me. Picture this: all of us with our domino masks on and little milk moustaches—”

“Do you even like him or do you just need a place to stay?”

Klaus slumps back. “What’s the difference, Diego? It’s good enough.”

“Don’t go back to him. Please. If you don’t wanna live with me I’ll find you an apartment.”

“Why are you trying so hard?” Klaus hisses. “You never cared this much before.”

“What Morgan did to you—”

“That was a million years ago. It doesn’t matter!” 

“I was with him,” Diego blurts out. “The first time he saw you.”

Klaus goes still, his eyes widening. “What?”

“I was just a rookie. We were on patrol and we saw you working the streets. I’ve been trying to figure out the timeline. I think he must’ve—he must’ve gone back that night. During shift change, I don’t know.”

“What the fuck, Diego.”

“ _I_ should’ve gone back for you. I should’ve found you and taken you in. But I—I was trying to get away from everything, have my own life. I thought you would be okay on your own.”

Klaus gapes at him, and then he puts down his fork. He slides from the booth and stalks out of the restaurant.

“Fuck. Klaus—” Diego grabs for his wallet. He leaves a heap of bills on the table before following after him.

Klaus is standing on the sidewalk outside, struggling to light a cigarette with a shaking hand. “ _Shit_.” he mutters, fumbling with the lighter. He looks up when he hears Diego approaching and then turns away.

“Klaus?”

Klaus keeps his back turned to him, finally getting the cigarette lit. Smoke wafts up around his shoulders as he lets out a shaky breath. “So you knew there was a connection,” he croaks. “And you still threw me out of the station. Do you hate me that much or do you just fucking suck at your job?”

Diego circles around him, takes Klaus by his upper arms so he can’t run off again. Klaus startles at his touch and drops the cigarette. “I know I fucked up,” Diego says pleadingly. “I’m sorry, Klaus.”

Klaus pulls against his grip. “Let me go.”

“Just listen—”

“ _You_ listen!” Klaus snaps, trying to wrench his arms free. “I needed you, Diego. I went to you for help and you told me I was worthless.”

“Klaus—”

“And you _knew_ he’d already seen me on the street!” 

“Give me a chance to make things right.”

“So, what, you need me to ease your guilty conscience now that the truth is out? Is that it? Well, I’m sorry, but that’s not my job. Let _go_ of me, for chrissakes—”

“It’s not like that, okay? I care about you, Klaus.” Diego pulls Klaus towards him, wraps his arms around him in a crushing hug. “I never should’ve said what I said,” he tells him. “Or turned you away when you needed me. I should’ve helped you. I should’ve been there so no one could hurt you. But I let you down and I’m so sorry for that.” 

He expects Klaus to keep fighting, to yell or spit in his face. But Klaus seems to melt against his chest, hugging him back with a desperation that takes Diego completely by surprise. “You were the only person I had left who cared about me,” Klaus confesses wetly. “And then, after you—I thought no one would ever care again. Like it just didn’t matter what happened to me.” He sucks in a stilted, shaky breath. “Like I deserved it.”

Diego swallows against the lump in his throat and tightens his hold on Klaus. “Let me fix it, Klaus. Let me help you.”

“You _can’t_ fix it. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. All the shit that’s happened since then—”

“I promise you, I’m never gonna let anyone hurt you again. I’m gonna be there to protect you. Just give me the chance.”

“That’s a nice thought, but—”

“I mean it. No one’s gonna hurt you anymore. Got it?”

Klaus is quiet for a second and then he nods. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” Diego repeats. “You’re gonna be safe, Klaus.”

Klaus pulls back to wipe at the tears in his eyes. “Well. We’ll see.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.” Klaus sags tiredly against the brick building and fishes another cigarette out of his pocket.

Diego lets him smoke for a while, not quite sure what to say or what to do. It almost makes him want a cigarette himself, so he’ll have something to do with his hands. Something that will distract him from the heaviness of his heart and the persistent knot of worry in his stomach. But he just leans against the wall beside Klaus, watches as he slowly relaxes. The tension drains from Klaus’ shoulders, his hand grows steadier around the cigarette. Then Diego says, “do you wanna go home and order a pizza?”

Klaus opens his eyes and lets out a soft laugh. “That sounds great.” He taps ash from the cigarette. “Sorry about dinner.”

“Don’t be.” 

“Can we get breadsticks?”

“Sure.”

“One more thing. Any chance you’re looking to put that cop-salary money where your mouth is?”

“Maybe?”

Klaus seems to hesitate for a moment. “Not tonight, but, maybe tomorrow,” he says, “will you help me get my things from his house?” He exhales a billow of smoke. “There isn’t much, but. Well.”

Diego smiles softly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Does that mean you’re moving in?”

Klaus looks down at the sidewalk. He nods, slowly. “Guess I am. At least for a little while. Are you sure that’s okay?”

“Yeah, it is, Klaus. Of course it is.”


End file.
